


Forever Young

by 100demons



Category: Major League (Movie), ダイヤのA | Daiya no A | Ace of Diamond
Genre: Alternate Universe, Baseball, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-24 10:06:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4915354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/100demons/pseuds/100demons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Baseball has always been everything. Every caught pitch, every hit, every squat behind home plate devoted to the unforgiving grind of a sport that gave him everything and took it all back. It broke his back and bent his knees and twisted his hands into gnarled claws– and yet, and yet, Miyuki thinks, the scent of freshly cut grass filling his nose, thinks of sweat in his eyes and dirt in his mouth and 108 red stitches carved permanently into his skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forever Young

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pennyofthewild](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennyofthewild/gifts).



> I’ve been thinking about Miyuki coming in to a team like that, with Jake’s background ... with bad knees and a shit arm and years toiling away in indie baseball, coming back to the losing Seidou Kings, his old team that he’d once led to the World Series, with everything riding on this year–! Sitting in the back of the plane, with six pounds of ice taped to each leg, his head throbbing, his hands bruised to hell and coaching Furuya through the lineup for the game tomorrow night with his eyes closed cause he’s so damned tired...

"Since baseball time is measured only in outs, all you have to do is succeed utterly; keep hitting, keep the rally alive, and you have defeated time. You remain forever young."

Roger Angell

* * *

 

Miyuki’s older, tougher, maybe not so much a human anymore but a giant bruise masquerading as a baseball player. Furuya’s knee brushes against the bundle of ice taped to his own leg, the touch so gentle Miyuki wouldn’t have caught it if he hadn’t cracked an eye open at the right moment.

 _Not wiser_ , Miyuki thinks a little ruefully as his stomach lurches a little. There’s not even any turbulence that he can blame it on, just Furuya’s scrunched up face as he pushes his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose. The tiny silver skull glimmers from the overhead reading light, grinning ghoulishly with minuscule jagged teeth.  

“What about Sakurai?” Miyuki prompts, tearing his eyes away to stare determinedly out the window. He can feel Furuya hunch even more over the scorebook in hand, shoulders pressing against his. 

“Switch-hitter, he’s batting .280 with 66 RBIs so far, usually fourth or fifth in the lineup, 16 home runs so far this year. Batting from the left, he’s about .295, 10 home runs,” Furuya reads aloud slowly, evenly. 

“Hm,” Miyuki hums, flicking through memories in his head. Sakurai Ryouta: he remembers a hulking man with vast pine-tar smeared shoulders. Likes to crowd the inside of the plate, nasty habit of spitting at the dirt inside of the batter’s box. Quick wrists, good eye, and lots of power.

“He’s old,” Miyuki says at last. “Had hip surgery last year and he’s not following through on his swings too good this season from what I’ve seen on some tapes. You can afford to be aggressive with him. Get ahead in the count, then work him inside.”

“He’s only thirty two, same as you are,” Furuya says, quiet-like, and Miyuki can’t help the small laugh digging deep in the back of his throat. 

“Shit, kid, didn’t you know that it works like dog years in baseball?” Miyuki grins and all the sharp bitterness has worn down into something like a comfortable pain in his chest, a constant ache in his broken knees. “Maybe even worse for us catchers.” He flicks the ice pack taped to one leg. 

“Enjoy it while it lasts, rookie,” Miyuki finishes, bumping shoulders. Furuya gives him a side-long look for a while, his black eyes unfathomable behind his glasses. 

“We’ll do it this year,” Furuya says abruptly, just as Miyuki starts thinking about elbowing him in the side to divert that impenetrable, unshakable gaze. 

“What?” Miyuki blinks.

“The World Series,” Furuya says, his voice full of intent. “Together, with this team. We’ll go all the way and win.” 

Baseball has always been everything. Every caught pitch, every hit, every squat behind home plate devoted to the unforgiving grind of a sport that gave him everything and took it all back. It broke his back and bent his knees and twisted his hands into gnarled claws– and yet, and yet, Miyuki thinks, the scent of freshly cut grass filling his nose, thinks of sweat in his eyes and dirt in his mouth and 108 red stitches carved permanently into his skin. 

Maybe it’s not such a surprise that he’s fallen a little–too much, probably– in love with this rookie, this kid with too much damned pride and fire and a fastball that Miyuki can’t help but dream about, settling sweetly into the pocket of his glove.

“Yeah?” Miyuki breathes, his voice going ragged. “Then I’ll hold you to that, ace.”

**Author's Note:**

> For penny, who drew the most marvelous Ricky Vaughn-inspired Furuya, which you can find [here](http://pennyofthewild.tumblr.com/post/130134335026/wow-its-been-5ever-since-i-posted-art-so-have). Ricky Vaughn is a character from _Major League_ , a terrible & amazing movie about baseball in the 80s. Come for the tight uniform pants, stay for the surprisingly heartwarming sports story. Originally posted on tumblr [here](http://100-demons.tumblr.com/post/130322081073/pennyofthewild-100-demons-reblogged-your).
> 
> Also available in Chinese [here](http://laizhekezhui.lofter.com/post/1d7aac3d_8a7ac2b), thanks to the amazing YL7970!


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